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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28787409">Dead Moon Rising</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/skele_smol/pseuds/Regina_Draconis'>Regina_Draconis (skele_smol)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Dragon Prince (Cartoon), The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Book: Through the Moon (The Dragon Prince), Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Clementine has both legs, Crossover, Crossovers &amp; Fandom Fusions, Elf Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Elf/Human Relationship(s), Established Rayllum, Established Relationship, Established Violentine, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Mage Callum, Magic, Magic and Walkers, Minor Romance, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rated For Violence, Swearing for all, Zombie Apocalypse, magic portal, rated for language</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:00:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28787409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/skele_smol/pseuds/Regina_Draconis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t think we made it back through the portal.” Callum whimpers. “And… And I don’t think we’re still in it, either.”</p>
<p>He’s right. And, as much as it frightens her to admit, this isn’t the world between life and death that Rayla had entered. There are no pillars of crystalized ice that imprison Runaan or her parents like she had dreamed. No ghosts of her dead assassin teammates hunting her -- hell-bent on killing her in vengeance of their deaths that they blamed her for. No Viren - who should be bloody and broken and very, very dead - cocooned in pulsing dark magic and steadily regenerating.</p>
<p>And everything just feels so… wrong here.</p>
<p>Then she catches something out of the corner of her eye. Something moving on her peripherals that sets her shoulders tense and punches fear into her throat. Something is clawing its way onto the shore no more than ten feet from the dock upon which she and Callum are standing. Something that she doesn’t understand.</p>
<p>An alternate tale for Through the Moon. Trapped in a new deadly world after the Nexus portal fails, Callum and Rayla must adapt in order to survive with the help of some strange new allies</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Clementine/Violet (Walking Dead: Done Running)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dead Moon Rising</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this has been floating around in my head for a while now. And, after talking it through with a friend who very kindly kicked my ass into gear writing this, I'm actually really excited to reveal my first ever crossover story, featuring two series that mean the world to me.</p>
<p>I hope that people enjoy this. I know I am enjoying writing it. I have some plans that I think you might enjoy, some that might surprise and some that might hurt lol. This is more The Dragon Prince-centric, but there's plenty of Walking Dead-ness sprinkled in.</p>
<p>Thank you in advance for any comments, kudos and bookmarks. I'll be interested to hear your thoughts and theories for this story.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u"> Dead Moon Rising. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> Chapter.1: The other side of the Moon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>The moon above hangs full and bright. Her deep, silver light shines down and through the crystal waters of the Nexus, seeming to blaze there, just beneath the liquid surface. It’s beautiful. Ethereal silver fire encased in ice. But all that Ezran can see are his own two eyes staring back at him. They’re worried eyes. Painted in all the blues of forget-me-nots. Bright and bold yet ever so delicate. Infinite hues illuminated by newborn light.</p><p>“They still haven’t come back up.” It’s hard to keep the tremor from his voice as he speaks. Hard to hide the anxiety that claws up from the pit in his belly and settles in his chest. Curling around his heart, like Bait does his feet in the cold nights of winter. “Rayla really hates the water. She wouldn’t still be down there if Callum had found her. He’s taking too long.”</p><p>Bait turns in the child-king’s arms. His clammy skin deepening to a shade of deep charcoal grey as he groans softly to the boy.</p><p>Ezran pushes his face against the glowtoad’s warm back. Hiding the way that his lower lip trembles despite how hard he bites it. “What if they can’t find their way back?” He whispers. “What if Phoe-Phoe’s feather isn’t enough and they… and they can’t-”</p><p>A hand settles on his shoulder. Warm and light and gentle. Peeking from the edges of his fuzzy vision, Ezran can just about make out the three long fingers that adorn it - Lujanne’s fingers - as they curl around his shoulder. He doesn’t struggle as the Moon mage draws him close. Doesn’t refuse her wordless offer of comfort as he leans his little body against hers.</p><p>“They’ll be alright,” She tells him in that soft, soothing voice of hers. “Remember all that they have done -- what you have all done, this past luna month.” The elf pushes her fingers through the boys soft, woollen hair in a strangely maternal gesture. “They may be reckless, foolhardy even, but you know that they’ll always come ba-”</p><p>Whatever else the illusionist had planned to say dies in her throat. Stunned into silence by a sudden flash of brilliant blueish-white light. A pulse of magic that radiates outwards from the stone pillars of the Moonhenge and illuminates the lake. And there, standing stark against the clear waters for just a brief moment, two silhouettes kicking toward the surface.</p><p>“I see something.” Ezran’s voice cracks, his words doused in excitement as he shouts and breaks free of Lujanne’s embrace. Dropping to his knees at the edge of the lake, the young king’s eyes dart and squint as he wildly searches the too bright waters for the shadowed shapes again. “I saw them, Lujanne! I did! You were right, they’re coming back!”</p><p>But Lujanne’s attention is not with Ezran’s. And her insides are twisting with concern rather than joy. That pulse of magic… it wasn’t right. The portal’s power should be steady, constant. Not fluctuating and unstable.</p><p>Then her ears prick. Twitching and tracking the soft grating sound of grinding rock. She turns, moves away from Ezran to inspect the integrity of the rebuilt Moonhenge structures in time to watch as the first tiny chip of the closest obelisk skips free. In time to watch helplessly as the uppermost piece tilts, slips and then falls from its proper place. She watches, horrified, as the bounce and tumble of the broken segment breaks free another piece followed by another as the entire pillar crumbles.</p><p>The ground beneath her feet shakes. Magic, raw and unrestrained bursts free and scorches the earth as it races toward the lake. Races toward Ezran, still hunkered and bent forward over his knees, as he searches the water for his brother and the elf he’s grown to love as his sister.</p><p>She turns. Her eyes wide and with Ezran’s name on her lips. Terrified that the unbound magic has already reached him. She sees the boy react to her shout. Turning around in slow motion. Sees how his face falls and the relief in his eyes turns to fear.</p><p>She can’t reach him. She knows she can’t. But that doesn’t stop Lujanne from trying. Doesn’t stop her body from hurling itself forward. The truth won’t prevent the illusionists own little white lies from forming in her head, convincing her that she can save the boy… all she has to do is<em> do it. </em></p><p>She only manages one single step before thick arms wrap around her middle. Allen’s arms. The human carpenter anchors her in place at the same time that a wink of gunmetal grey and a flap of black fabric edged in gold curls around the cowering boy-king -- curling protectively around the glowtoad still in his arms. Soren’s feet barely touch the ground before he throws himself, as well as Ezran - safely tucked against his chest plate - clear of the crackling energy.</p><p>There’s a dull boom as the released primal magic connects with the Nexus. The uncontrolled magic collides with magic that is tempered and the conflicting energies react against one another in violence.</p><p>The surface of the lake sizzles and spits. Bowing upwards as each water molecule is stretched to bursting with moon primal energy before the light erupts and consumes the very night itself. The glow is so bright that it scorches images through closed and shielded eyelids. The magic roars. Ringing through ears and skulls. Long and loud and rising into a fevered pitch -</p><p>Then it’s gone. And the world falls silent.</p><p>The surface of the lake, once again, emanates calmness from its core. A still and perfectly serene peacefulness. Its glossy surface a mirror that reflects back a gleaming illusion to shroud the tumultuous ripples that dance below its glassy surface.</p><p>Ripples, but nothing more…</p><p>… save for the softly glowing blue feather that twists and twirls unseen amongst the currents kept secret below.</p><p> </p><p>---------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>The water around them had once been warm. Infused with ancient magic and molten moonlight.<em> This </em>water is anything but.</p><p>This water is frigid and the darkness that envelopes them is disorientating as it closes in around the pair struggling to kick their way to the surface. One of the two slows, filled with a deep dread. She’s held her breath for as long as she could, longer if she were honest.</p><p>Her lungs are burning, desperate and hot.</p><p>Her heart beats in violent flings against her ears, throat and chest.</p><p>Panicked.</p><p>She can’t feel the seeping cold anymore and her head is pounding. Every single cell in her body is screaming for oxygen.</p><p>She needs to breathe.</p><p>Needs to breathe.</p><p>Needs to…</p><p>Breathe.</p><p>
  <em> … breathe. </em>
</p><p>She opens her mouth.</p><p>Gasps for air.</p><p>Just as her head breaks through the water’s surface. </p><p>Her blood roars in her ears as she drags in lungful after desperate lungful of sour-tasting air and mouldy atmosphere.</p><p>“You alright?” Callum’s own voice comes rasping against her ear. Oxygen-starved himself.</p><p>Rayla tries to respond but instead, all that she manages is to cough up foul and fetid water from her lungs in noisy rasps.</p><p>She’s tired.</p><p>Dizzy.</p><p>Incoherent thoughts swirl inside her head and she just feels so, so<em> heavy</em>. Her kicks are uncoordinated. Feeble. Her body, weakened from her near-drowning, is sinking.</p><p>She dips. Just barely. The water only just reaches the bottom of her lower lip before she feels Callum shift his grip on her. He uses his own body to hold hers up while his legs frantically tread the water hard enough to keep them both afloat.</p><p>“Just breathe, okay?” He pauses to spit the silt and water from his throat. “It’s okay. I got you. I got you.”</p><p>He does.</p><p>She knows he does.</p><p>He’s always been right there when she’s needed him. Leaping from the Storm Spire after her. Rebuilding the Moonhenge for her and following her impulsive ass through the Nexus portal, into the world between life and death.</p><p>He’s saved her, over and over, usually before she’d even realized that she needed saving.</p><p>Even now, as she feels the thick film of grimy water oozing under her clothing and sliding over her chilled skin beneath, he’s saving her. He flounders as he swims, towing her behind him. Cutting through the dark liquid as best he can with irregular strokes. It’s awkward and clumsy and water keeps sloshing up her nose, but Callum is swimming - with his face pinching up in concentration - for them. Swimming for<em> her</em>.</p><p>Then he’s closing her hand around something firm and solid and Rayla’s eyes open into slits. There’s a dock above them and a ladder, wooden runged and narrow, to climb. A way out. </p><p>“You go first,” Callum tells her as he hooks one elbow around the side rail. Anchoring himself as he moves his free hand to the small of her back for support. He holds her, presses her tight to the structure until her feet find purchase and then adds. “I’m right behind you.”</p><p>The teenaged boy is exhausted, she can see it in his eyes. Can see it in the way that he clings to the side of the ladder as he bobs and rides the waves that slap against him. Threatening to pull him under. She knows that she could argue with him. Tell him to go first. But the cold in the air and the chill in the water is sapping what little energy they both have left… and sapping it fast.</p><p>So, she doesn’t argue. Instead, the elf simply sets her jaw and hauls her body up. Drags herself, hand over fist, onto the flimsy wooden platform before turning around and helping the bedraggled mage to clamber out next.</p><p>Together, they flop backwards. Chests heaving, lungs inflating painfully as though made of lead and their ribs are constructed of constricting metal bands. Laying flat helps them to cough up the last of the briny liquid still bubbling inside them. Their slowing breaths forcing out not only the last of the polluted water but also the panicked fog that almost drowning had poisoned their thoughts with.</p><p>Callum closes his eyes as he steadies his breathing. Tries to centre himself by pulling his mind and body and spirit back into partnership with each other.</p><p>Then he feels Rayla’s hand pushing itself into his. Her fingers thread and slot into the spaces between his own as she curls herself into his side. He shivers. Shivers against the chill in the air. Shivers against the chill of the nose that burrows against his neck and shivers while her warm breath blasts, almost scorching, in contradiction.</p><p>“I really… <em> really </em>… hate water.”</p><p>Callum fights back the tiny smile that half-heartedly toys with his lips. Instead, he reaches his free hand around to card through her sodden bangs and lays feather-soft kisses against her temple. “I know.”</p><p>“I don’t understand something though,” The elf says quietly. Her voice is steadier now, regaining some of its strength as she calms. “When I jumped in, the water was… well, like it wasn’t even there.” She frowns and digs her elbow down against the wood, shoving herself upright and into a sitting position. “It was warm and clear, and I could breathe through it… So, what happened? Why did it change?”</p><p>But Callum doesn’t have an answer for her. He wishes that he did, but he just doesn’t know.</p><p>And there’s something else that’s bothering him. Some strange sensation that had just felt… <em> off </em>within himself. His body sends confused and disconcerting signals to his brain, like something important is simply floating around the confines of his insides -- disconnected.</p><p>Then, a different thought and realization slams into him like a fist to his guts.</p><p>It’s sudden and brutal and he knows that it’s useless to try but instinct demands that he at least attempt to suppress, even if only for a few moments longer, what he knows he can’t.</p><p>His hands tremble as he reaches one shaking limb into his vest. His fingers dig and roam through layers of fabric as he searches to feel the stiffened quill and the silken edges of the Moon Phoenix feather - of Phoe-Phoe’s feather - that he’d tucked safely away.</p><p>But they come back empty.</p><p>What comes next starts as a contortion in his stomach. His belly squeezes around nothingness until it aches and he feels nauseous. His lungs twist until a feeling of being smothered by an invisible force crushes down upon his throat. His breathing becomes erratic, deep and then shallow, and his eyes water as he fights valiantly a losing battle to counteract the growing fear that threatens to engulf him.</p><p>They’re no longer inside that strange, in-between world through the portal.</p><p>Nor have they returned safely through the Nexus either.</p><p>He doesn’t know<em> where </em>they are.</p><p>And now, he’s frantic. Eyes darting wildly as he searches for his brother. For Soren. Lujanne… Even Allen. But all that he sees is the darkness. A darkness that is so deep that even the stars and moon hide, cowering, behind a dense layer of cloud.</p><p>Somewhere, unseen, a twig snaps and Callum’s now paranoid brain jumps, even as his body freezes.</p><p>Every sound is sinister, every shadow - some kind of fearsome predator lurking in the darkness ready to devour him. He watches for spectres, apparitions, shrouded in the gloom -- his instincts, rabbit-like, quick and snapping immediately to fright, flight, and freeze rather than to fight.</p><p>“Rayla?”</p><p>“Shhh!”</p><p>When he looks to the Moonshadow elf, her ears are perked. Slanting high as she listens. Her elven hearing is sharper than his, though it still takes a moment for her to decipher that, aside from the gentle lapping of the water beneath them, there is almost no sound to be heard.</p><p>Only what she assumes to be the soft moan of the wind pushing through the trees, hidden under the thick, soupy darkness…</p><p>Darkness that is strangely fathomless, even to her.</p><p>She squints. Her head tilts in confusion as her sight struggles to pierce through the shroud.</p><p>She’s Moonshadow. Born to the moon and built for the nights and all its comforting shadows. She should be in her element. The nights are her playground, have been since before she could even toddle. But, here, something’s wrong. Different and disorienting. For the first time in her sixteen years, she’s doubting not herself, but her connection to her arcanum. Something that she has never once had the need to even think about.</p><p>“No, Rayla.” Callum’s talking again. He’s scared, she can hear it in the quiver of his breath. “Listen-”</p><p>“That’s what I’m <em> trying </em> to do, Callum.” She hisses at him. She’s sharper with him than she means to be, but the internalized frustration that she feels blends with her own mounting nervousness. It shortens her patience and blades her tongue, and she regrets her tone even as it continues to cut. “So, I’m going to need you to hush and let me listen. Maybe then I can figure out where in Xadia the Nexus spat us out.”</p><p>Callum frowns. Confused. “By listening for the wind?”</p><p>Rayla, sighs. Her thumb immediately presses against the corner of her eye. “Yes, Callum. The wind.” Her index finger finds her other eye and joins her thumb in its efforts to pinch off the stress headache that’s building behind them. “You know, that cold, blowy thing that you do sometimes? I was hoping to catch something that I recognized on it. Melodaisies playing somewhere in the distance, or adoraburrs squeaking. Just, something, <em> anything</em>, that might tell me where the hell we are.”</p><p>Then her arm drops down from her face and she folds both limbs loosely over her chest. Now she looks uncertain and insecure as her head tilts over her shoulder and she throws a frown out into the darkness. </p><p>“But, it’s so strange. The way that it moves here. The way that<em> everything </em>moves here. I can’t quite follow anything or find my bearings because, each time that I think that I’ve heard something or <em> seen </em> something, it’s gone again before I can pinpoint the source.”</p><p>“But, that doesn’t make any sense.”</p><p>“You think?” She scoffs, kicking the toe of her boot against the dock and sending a chunk of the water-rotted wood splashing into the black depths below. “<em>Nothing </em>makes sense. Not since we dragged our soggy asses out of the water.”</p><p>Callum inwardly flinches at her tone as he mumbles his interruption. “No, not that,” Then, he pauses, his eyes cast low as he ignores the sceptical brow that Rayla raises at him. Gnawing at the inside of his cheek thoughtfully he considers his next words carefully. “You said that you’re trying to find your bearings by listening to the wind, right?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah. So?”</p><p>That fist of anxiety that had jammed itself into Callum’s throat earlier is back again. But this time, it’s brought... friends. Little wiggly friends that worm doubts inside his thoughts and strangle his insides with thin, ropey coils of fear. “But, Rayla,” He says quietly. Keeping his eyes down. “That’s just it. There is<em> no </em>wind here. There hasn’t been anything cold or blowy since we got here.”</p><p>
  <em> What? </em>
</p><p>The moaning is back.</p><p>Rolling over the water it spreads a chill through Rayla’s blood and up her spine as her ears now detect a variation in it that makes it distinctly<em> not </em>the voice of the wind -- though, it<em> is </em>indeed a voice. One that hisses. One that gurgles with a withered snarl. And now she can also hear a slow dragging thump accompanying it. Something moving, unseen, not too far away, and hidden under the blanketing shadows.</p><p>“I don’t think we made it back through the portal.” Callum whimpers. “And… And I don’t think we’re still in it, either.”</p><p>He’s right. And, as much as it frightens her to admit, this isn’t the world between life and death that Rayla had entered. There are no pillars of crystalized ice that imprison Runaan or her parents like she had dreamed. No ghosts of her dead assassin teammates hunting her -- hell-bent on killing her in vengeance of their deaths that they blamed<em> her </em>for. No Viren - who should be bloody and broken and very, very<em> dead </em> - cocooned in pulsing dark magic and steadily regenerating.</p><p>And everything just feels so… <em> wrong </em>here.</p><p>Then she catches something out of the corner of her eye. Something moving on her peripherals that sets her shoulders tense and punches fear into her throat. Something is clawing its way onto the shore no more than ten feet from the dock upon which she and Callum are standing. Something that she doesn’t understand and can’t quite determine, but it’s something that her instincts instantly recognizes.</p><p>The primal fear of the unnatural.</p><p>“Callum,” Rayla says firmly. She pulls the boy to his feet while keeping her eyes trained on the darkened, undulating form as best she can. Then she turns and drags him into a brisk jog behind her as adds a firmer. “We’ve got to go.”</p><p>The dock shudders alarmingly beneath their feet. Creaking and lurching violently with each strike. Rayla eyes are vigilant as they move. Maintaining her observation on the strange figure and keeping a secure hold on Callum’s hand as she guides him, as best she can, through a darkness that’s still too thick and alien for her nocturnal vision to function normally in.</p><p>They move past the wretched and mud-caked creature as quickly and quietly as they can. Forcing themselves to ignore the spindly limb that reaches out and gropes in the air for them. The elf herds Callum further out, into the shadows just barely deep enough for the darkness wrap around them. It swallows up their shapes and keeps them at least partially hidden away from any prying eyes that might be watching.</p><p>She manages to guide Callum only a few dozen yards before the human digs his heels in. His sudden halt jerks Rayla to an abrupt stop with a pang in her shoulder and a yelp on her lips.</p><p>“Callum!” She hisses. “Come on, we shouldn’t-”</p><p>But Callum ignores her.</p><p>“What <em> is </em> that?” He whispers, squinting into the darkness. Peering at the… whatever it was, now struggling to rise to its feet. “Human?”</p><p>Even hindered, Rayla’s sight is keener than his, but she’d be lying if she were to say that she wasn’t having difficulty identifying the shape lurching to its feet through the eerie gloom. Finally, the clouds shift and a hazy blade of moonlight peeks through, almost as though the celestial body herself is nervous to reveal the horrors contained in this place.</p><p>Rayla’s gaze shifts away from the figure swaying on its feet near the water and her eyes widen in horror at the sight in the heavens…</p><p>“No…” She murmurs. The softness in her voice belies the rising panic that she feels bubbling in her chest. “No, that’s not… this isn’t right.”</p><p>Confused, Callum frowns and reaches out to touch her shoulder. “What is it?”</p><p>She guides his sight to the moon in the sky and his eyes widen.</p><p>The moon is barely a sliver of light against the starless skies.</p><p>Waning crescent.</p><p>“But… But.” Callum chokes on his fear. His voice creeps higher, louder as he stutters. The figure on the shore turns. “The moon was full. The portal could only be opened under a full moon. We’re not at the Nexus-” He glances around wildly, the lump of panic in his throat now a fist. “Where are we?”</p><p>That strange, hissing sound is back. Rolling across the water again like a sinister mist. It chills the elf’s blood as her ears prick and twitch, tracking the sound back to the source. A source that turns the chill in her blood to an icy slush that throbs through her veins.</p><p>“I don’t know, Callum.” She says gently. Carefully. Desperate to keep her own rising fear from her voice. “But we need to move. We can’t stay here.”</p><p>“But… Where?” Then his gaze flicks to the shape moving toward them. It sways on its feet. Staggering. “Wait, they live around here, right? Maybe they might be able to help us.”</p><p>Rayla says nothing, but one of her hands is moving, reaching for the blades strapped to her back.</p><p>Callum’s human eyes can’t see what her elven ones - strained as they are - can. The shabby rags that cover a skeletal form are strips of shredded flesh clinging to dull bone and exposed muscle, not torn fabrics. The loop of what looks like a rope hanging from a narrow waist are braids of leathery intestines, sliding free from its body.</p><p>“Callum,” She hisses, desperately. “<em> Don’t! </em>”</p><p>But it’s too late. His hands are already cupped around his mouth and his voice rings out like a thunderclap against the silence. Loud and clear. “Hey! Can you help us? We’re lost!’</p><p>The figure pauses.</p><p>“I think I got his attention.” </p><p>Then, its jaw drops wide. Unnaturally so. And it lurches toward the pair with renewed vigour. A gnarled arm raises. Knotted fingers hook, ready to grab. And a chillingly hungry, sticky sounding snarl slithers from between its torn lips.</p><p>“Oh, you got its attention alright.”</p><p>Rayla flicks her drawn blade open to its straight edge with one hand while her other grabs the mage’s wrist. She pulls him around, directing him to run ahead of her. Then she draws out the twin of her open blade, her eyes fixed on the… the, <em> whatever </em>it is, clawing out in the air for her. Watching and waiting for it to pick up speed. To charge her. “And to answer your earlier question, I think it is - <em> was </em> - human… once.”</p><p>But its pace doesn’t quicken.</p><p>Because it<em> can’t. </em></p><p>Its decrepit body is too withered and mangled for it to move faster than an agitated amble. Each step jerks as it finally lumbers awkwardly from the darkness and into the weak shaft of moonlight. Then, Rayla’s eyes widen in horror.</p><p>Stripped of the shadows that had robed it, the thing is so much more nightmarish than the elf had first suspected.</p><p>The mangled flesh and spilled guts are the least startling of its injuries. It’s the smaller ones that send fear slithering through Rayla’s body like poison. The chunk of flesh missing from its throat, the dark, cavernous void where an eye used to be housed. The mangled flesh that hangs from its cheek, its nose that is gone, as are its lips.</p><p>It looks… almost like…</p><p>She swallows hard. Forcing the sour bile that had risen into her throat back down to her stomach.</p><p>Like it had been eaten alive.</p><p>Or at least, partially eaten.</p><p>Behind her, Callum stifles a curse. Then his voice sounds a little louder - albeit shaky - and he’s suddenly closer to her again. His stiff spine pressing to hers. “Uh, Rayla.” The back of his boot nudges the side of her ankle. “I think he brought friends.”</p><p>The thing from the river is still far enough away - and clearly incapable of sudden bursts of agility - that Rayla chances a look over her shoulder. Her gaze follows the direction in which Callum points. Along his arm and out into the forest. For a second she can’t see anything. The darkness is too thick. Too viscous. It oozes toward them as tendrils of venom upon the earth.</p><p>Then the treeline ripples, shifts, and the confusion in Rayla’s brain lifts. Finally, clicking into understanding.</p><p>The tendrils are not fingers of shadow but reaching arms. Gnarled and spindly limbs adorned with knotting fingers that curl into claws that lead the charge as a dozen or so more of those broken, mangled creatures emerge from the darkness of the forest.</p><p>Rayla’s heart slams into her throat and then sinks. Slithering all the way down into the pit of her guts as she realizes…</p><p>They’re...</p><p>Keeping her back pressed to Callum’s, Rayla casts a quick glance to the side. The shore stretches out into fathomless darkness.</p><p>Water on one side and a herd on the other. </p><p>They’re... cut off.</p><p>Then, her eyes shift again and her heart skips a beat.</p><p>A jagged cliff face pierces the darkness. Pocked with crevices and staggered with protrusions and with a small, rocky shelf-like overhang that juts a good twelve feet from the earth. High ground that leads to a clearer section of the forest. She squints harder and can see a suggestion of a path. A lighter shadow of more sparsely spaced trees. And no sigh of any ghoulish human shapes waiting for them.</p><p>“Callum?” Rayla hisses over her shoulder. Her eyes still on the cliff and their possible escape. “To your left, there’s a ledge that’ll take us to higher ground. Do y’think that you-”</p><p>She cuts herself short abruptly.</p><p>Something has her foot.</p><p>And it’s pulling.</p><p>The grip is strong. It feels just like the week-old assassin’s binding had on her wrist. Only, this time, it has her by the ankle. A band of crushing pressure that squeezes tighter and jerks her leg. She gasps as her hips are forced to twist, her teeth set on edge as a soft crack finds her ears. A flash of dizzying pain sings through her nervous system from her foot to her brain, sparking fuzzy blurs behind her eyelids and knot of fire and ice churning in her guts.</p><p>Then the grip tightens further and yanks again. Instincts, drilled into her by Runaan’s training, have her blindly stabbing her blade downwards. Mostly to force whatever it is that has her to let go but, also partly to save herself a fall.</p><p>For a second she feels nothing, just her sword cutting through empty air. Then there’s the barest hint of resistance that ricochets through her wrist and shoulder before her elbow snaps open and she drives the blade home.</p><p>The crushing grip goes slack and the pain lessens marginally. Until the elf attempts to shake her foot free.</p><p>The jerky motion sends a throb of stabbing needles along her every nerve ending. Up her spine and all the way to the base of her skull. Glancing down her belly churns. Pinned to the ground by the sword through its skull, is another one of those<em> things</em>. One that is startlingly less intact than the first.</p><p>From the waist up, the creature is whole, if a little torn up. Waist down… it’s just a mess of trailing gore and entrails. A rotting corpse with its mangled hand around her ankle and jaw stretched wide.</p><p>And then there’s the smell. The thick, rancid stench of death and decay that brings the taste of acid and bile scorching up her throat.</p><p>Rayla swallows down the burn from the back of her tongue and almost chokes on the frightened yelp that claws at her throat. “What <em> are </em> these things?” She pulls her foot free of the limp fingers and winces as she kicks the limb away in disgust. “What kind of dark magic can do <em> this </em>?”</p><p>“Rayla!”</p><p>Callum’s panicked cry has her swinging her head over his shoulder. There are more of them coming now. Pushing out of the shadows, like the very darkness itself is solid and tangible. Manifesting itself into more of the nightmarish fiends. The original dozen quickly becomes<em> dozens</em>. And all are coming for them.</p><p>“Callum-” A snarling, water-logged hiss snaps her head back to the front as a cold and clammy hand seizes her wrist.</p><p>In the time that she’d spent killing one of the creatures and checking their surroundings -- panic searching for an escape, the original ghoul had finally closed the distance. Now, it had her. The fingers around her wrist, frighteningly strong, as it begins to drag her arm toward its mouth.</p><p>Pain races all the way up her leg, all the way to her hip as she digs her heels in and tries to twist free. Fighting against the urge to gag as the sickly and pungent stench of rot swathes her face. “Now would be a fantastic time for your zap hand to make with the zapping!”</p><p>“Right, right! Yeah, uhhh…” He fumbles with his words, then he swallows hard. “About that-”</p><p>Rayla, still fighting against the thing that has her, can’t really spare the brainpower to listen to Callum’s stuttering. With monstrous strength somehow contained within its withered limbs and wasted muscles, it drags her closer - its mindless determination to sink its broken teeth into her flesh bordering on frenzied - so she snaps at the mage prince. Her desperation blading her words.</p><p>“You can quit hesitating at any time, Callum.” Finally, she manages to twist her wrist just enough to wedge her second blade between the monster’s teeth. And, as soon as she feels the tip of her weapon nudging at the back of its throat, she thrusts forward sharply. Cutting through and severing the monsters head from its body by its jaw.</p><p>“Not sure if you noticed, but there’s too many for me to hold back on my own.” She bites her lip against a pained cry as the severed head bounces against the top of her injured foot before it rolls away - still snarling, though now soundlessly. “And, these bastards are strong! One of them’s messed up my foot pretty bad, so I’d appreciate an Aspiro or a Fulminis right about now.”</p><p>“Really? Shit!” Callum presses his back firmer against hers. “As much as I’d love to -- and you know me, always up for a good magic show, I’m having a little bit of a problem.”</p><p>Scanning the shore for any more surprise ghouls emerging from the water, the elf spies two more. These ones are fat and gooey, bloated, and clearly have been submerged in the river for a long time. “Kinda up against the clock here, mage. What kind of problem are you having?”</p><p>“I’m struggling to find my connection to the sky here.”</p><p>A fist of alarm takes her by the throat as her heart plummets into the pit of her belly. “What!?”</p><p>Callum glances at her over his shoulder. His face twisting into a grimace of despair. “I’ve been trying to, but I can’t feel the sky arcanum here. Not strongly enough to tether to it at least.” His voice trembles as he almost whimpers. “You telling me that you still feel the moon?”</p><p>Rayla’s body freezes at that question. Every single one of her muscles seizing at once. She turns her senses inwards. Searching for that warm, comforting sensation that her connection to the moon arcanum brings. Searches for that little warming flutter in her heart and body and soothing hum in her mind that reminds her that magic runs in her blood. After a long moment, too long for her to find comfort in, she finds it, feels it. But, just a whisper.</p><p>It<em> is </em>there, but it’s so weak. Confused. Before they’d jumped into the moon portal the moon had been full. Her body singing with power. But here, the moon is more than half a cycle ahead, and she is at one of the weakest points in her Moonshadow abilities. And weakened further by the unexpected drain.</p><p>“I can.” She says quietly. “But not like before.”</p><p>“Well, hooray for you,” Callum grumbles. His petty, petulant tone stings and Rayla is glad that he has his back against hers so he can’t see the way that her ears involuntarily droop at his bitter tone. “<em> You’re </em> still connected but, yet again, I’m magicless and useless.”</p><p>“Callum, you’re not u-”</p><p>She doesn’t get to finish her sentence. The wall of creatures is closer now. Drowning out her efforts of reassurance. They can see them moving. Undulating. A single entity built of countless swinging jaws and ravenous, bottomless hunger.</p><p>This time, it’s Callum who turns first. Runs first.</p><p>He grabs Rayla’s elbow and pulls her with him. Though he’s startled when the elf quickly begins to trail behind him. His grip slides down her arm to her wrist.</p><p>He throws a worried glance over his shoulder and it deepens instantly into gut-wrenching concern.</p><p>She clutches onto the hilt of her sword until her knuckles bleach white and her face is screwed up, pale and ashen.</p><p>It’s the same expression that she’s worn whenever they’d travelled by boat. As though she’s fighting back the impulse to vomit. And then he notices her gait as she moves. It’s not fluid. Not like it usually is. Instinctively, Callum slows and loops his arm around her waist to help steady her. Surprised to hear the soft little broken gasps and whimpers that betray just how much she’s hurting.</p><p>The pain has an unpleasant warmth to it. A warmth that eats away at her stomach and sends twisting waves of nausea from gut to gullet. For as often as she’s prided herself on ignoring pain, on how she always seemed able to just push on through regardless, that just doesn’t seem possible right now. She’s tired and frightened. Everything just keeps on piling on her. So, the pain she feels, it owns her. Dominates her. Dictates her every thought and hiders her every action.</p><p>She leans in against Callum’s side. Using his strength to help keep her upright while directing him with her body. Then she pants out one single, ragged word.</p><p>“Cliff!”</p><p>Callum takes one quick glance around him and spots the land formation looming ahead.</p><p>He also notices that the change in direction is one that will force them closer toward the nightmarish ghouls still swarming in from the forest.</p><p>But he doesn’t argue. He trusts Rayla’s instincts over his own when it comes to reading a battlefield.</p><p>So he plants his foot down heavily and swings them both around. As they move closer, as fast as Rayla’s injured foot can bear, Callum notices how several of the creatures stumble and fall while Rayla and her sharper vision spots the two figures standing on the ledge -- both armed with bows that loose arrows into the line of the pack closest to them.</p><p>Human figures.</p><p>Instinctively, Rayla flips her hood up. Hiding her horns and pointed ears, a scant second before unfamiliar, urgent voices rise over the drone of snarls and hisses and growls.</p><p>“Over here!”</p><p>“This way!”</p><p>“We’ll keep the herd thinned-” </p><p>“- you two just work on getting your asses up here.”</p><p>A worm-eaten hand swings out from the darkness. Sudden and dangerously close. The ragged fingers just narrowly miss Rayla’s elbow. She reacts instinctively. Swinging her sword up and slicing through the limb in the same instant that an arrow sinks deep into its skull.</p><p>Callum’s eyes widen as he watches it fall, unmoving, at his feet and he finally sees exactly what they’ve been running from.</p><p>“They’re…” He swallows hard. “They’re already dead?”</p><p>Slipping from the boy’s hold, Rayla lunges, well, more lurches forward.</p><p>She swings her first blade. Her fingers manipulating the hidden mechanism that reshapes the straight edge into its hooked form as it carves into the side of an encroaching fiend’s face. Yanking and redirecting its snapping jaws away from Callum as she flips the mechanism a second time, rending the head in two as the blade changes shape again.</p><p>She limps back. Flicking the rancid blood from her sword as another volley of arrows drives back the closest ghouls. “Really not the time, Callum.” She grouses. Her eyes darting, watching how the wall of reanimated bodies close in. “Just start climbing!”</p><p>“But, what about you?”</p><p>Before Rayla can respond, one of the human’s from the ledge above beats her to the punch.</p><p>“No, no!” The raspy voice drawls. Her words grate through her clenched teeth as she draws her arm back and looses another bolt into the writhing mass. “That’s fine. You just keep taking your sweet ass time dithering like a pair of numb-nuts. It’s not like we’ve got a limited number of arrows here or anything!”</p><p>“I’ll be fine!” Rayla insists, spying another one of the things breaking the line. She tenses, ready to push it back but it’s felled by an arrow before she can even take a step to meet it. “Just go!”</p><p>This time, Callum doesn’t argue. He just turns and digs his hands into craggy mounds to grip as he jams his toes into any cracks that he can feel.</p><p>But, even though the cliff-face boasts plenty of holds and fissures, the boy mage still struggles. His scrambling is clumsy but he struggles on valiantly until a rough hand seizes him by the back of his scarf and collar and hauls him up the last few feet.</p><p>“Alright, Zorro,” The other archer calls as the first deposits Callum in an undignified heap at their feet. “Your turn. And you better make it fast! We’re running on empty here!”</p><p>Pushing back just one more ghoul, Rayla turns. She flicks her blades shut and slams them back into their casings under her short jacket and she leaps for the sheer ledge. Wedging her hands into cracks and digging her toes against the flat, she pulls herself higher.</p><p>She can feel the arrows rushing past her. Keeping back the living corpses as she struggles to climb. Then she misjudges her foot placement and kicks instead of pushes. The pain in her foot flares. Flames of agony searing through her, threaten to overwhelm her. She swallows down the fresh wave of nausea but not the agonized cry that forces itself loudly over her lips.</p><p>Then she hears Callum’s voice. Begging the strange humans to help her.</p><p>“Grab her, please. She’s hurt!”</p><p>“Keep them off her a little longer, Vi. I almost got her.” The hand that reaches out for Rayla is not Callum’s. The skin is a darker tone than his, but lighter than Ez’s. And it’s three-fingered, but not like her own - not elven. It’s human, but it’s deformed. Mutilated. There’s a stump between the centre digit and the pinko that wiggles awkwardly and tries to curl as the stranger grasps and pulls. Hauling the elf up over the edge a mere moment before the closest monster can grab her ankle and drag her back into the herd.</p><p>Rayla flops, panting against the ground. That was close. That was so, so close.</p><p>The strangers that had helped pull her and Callum to safety step back, giving the mage a chance to check the elf over. Careful to avoid knocking her hood from her horns.</p><p>“You okay?” He murmurs, cupping her cheek gently. “Your foot-”</p><p>“It’s not bad. Probably just a fracture,” Rayla dismisses. Interrupting Callum’s fussings before he can truly get going by dragging herself into his arms. “Nothing I can’t bounce back from. I just need to rest it a few days, then I’ll be fine.”</p><p>Callum frowns. He’s clearly not convinced. But, before he can argue, there’s a brusque clearing of a throat that pulls their heads around.</p><p>“Hey, yeah… Hate to interrupt the warm and fuzzies and all.” The voice, smokey and on-edge drawls. “But we got more of those rotting shit-bags trying to swarm up on our asses.”</p><p>Peering over Callum’s shoulder, Rayla stares at the stranger. She’s pale, blonde and skinny. Short and built in all sharp angles and flat curves. Her eyes are green, but different from Callum’s. They’re guarded and delicate, but also narrowed and impatient. She holds a bow in her hand, a quiver sits low across her hips and, protruding from her belt, hangs a hatchet.</p><p>“You about ready to go?” She’s not really asking, more convincing the two younger teens to say yes because she hasn’t the patience for a no. “Kinda don’t wanna save your sorry asses and wind up getting my own gnawed on.”</p><p>Thankfully, the other girl decides for them and does not share the same harried opinion as her companion.</p><p>“Just give them a second, ‘k Vi?” The brunette, the girl who had helped haul Rayla up, runs her hand down the snippy girl’s - Vi? - arm. Her honeyed amber eyes soften fondly for a moment, then she blinks and they shift back to observant. Scanning their surroundings as she tuts and smirks. “And you must be gettin’ old, maybe even losing your touch. There’s like four walkers behind us. Lined up all neat and easy for us. Hardly call that ‘swarming up on our asses’.”</p><p>She laughs throatily at the scoff her partner snorts through her nose, then her eyes fall to Callum and Rayla again Narrowing as her brows draw down low over her eyes. </p><p>“Hey, pretty boy.” Callum, she means. “Can’t help but notice that you’re out here in the wilds, unarmed. Betcha feeling pretty fucking stupid now that your girlfriend’s foot all fucked up.”</p><p>The tone isn’t unkind, but it is terse. She’s clearly bewildered and the tactlessness of her words still sting as they remind Callum that he can barely feel his arcanum anymore.</p><p>“Callum.” He says. Not looking at the older girl.</p><p>She frowns. “What?”</p><p>“My name,” He pushes himself to his feet and peers at the two girls behind him through wounded eyes. “It’s Callum. And I’m not ‘unarmed’, I’m a ma-”</p><p>“Look, kid.” Now the blonde is talking again. Talking over Callum. And it’s clear by the eye-roll that ripples through her entire body that she has little tolerance for formalities. Little tolerance for much of anything, really. “I don’t care if you’re the President of the United fucking States, we seriously<em> need </em>to haul ass. Get ourselves back home so <em> she </em> -” She stabs a sharp finger toward Rayla. “ - can get off that foot and start healing because <em> your </em> useless ass can’t keep a damned weapon on yourself while she slow dances with a walker.”</p><p>“What, in the name of the bloody moon, is a <em> walker </em>?”</p><p>The blonde’s eyes cut sharply to Rayla as she grasps Callum’s hand and hauls herself to her feet. “You’re shittin’ me.” She drawls. “The whole ass world went to shit like ten years ago now, and you’re seriously asking me <em> what </em> a walker is?”</p><p>“Do I <em> look </em> like I’m ‘shittin’ you?’” Rayla snaps back. Bristling and defensive. “Does <em> anything </em> about us make you think we know anything about anything that’s going on right now?!”</p><p>The blonde snorts. The side of her mouth curls up in a lop-sided and unfriendly smirk as she eyes the elf up and down. Taking in her outfit, but not her hidden elven features. “Nah, you look like some kinda Dungeons and Dragons reject. And <em> he </em> looks like a stable boy from some dollar store fairytale book.”</p><p>“Vi.” The brunette sighs, drawing out the ‘i’ for a moment in a tone that indicated that she was used to her companion’s prickly personality and well equipped in how to temper it. “You maybe think that you could lay off giving them shit ‘til we get home? Where it’s, y’know safer.”</p><p>The blonde, now confirmed as ‘Vi’ softens a little. Her shoulders slump and her body slouches, almost comfortably so, as she throws an exasperated look to the other girl. “She started it.”</p><p>“<em>You </em> started it.” Rayla defends hotly. “I asked a simple question.”</p><p>Vi whips her head back around, scowling. “No, <em> you’re </em> acting as fucking stupid as your dumbass, dickless boyfriend there.” She sneers. “No weapon. Don’t know what walkers are? Please. Where the fuck have you been for the last ten years?”</p><p>“Xadia.”</p><p>“Gesundheit.”</p><p>There’s a grunt as the brunette - who had, at some point, moved along the ledge ready to meet the first of the walkers attempting to reach them - swings the knife in her hand. Slamming a wicked-looking, twelve-inch blade into the eye socket of the creature teetering along the ledge. Gore and thick, rancid blood oozes along the length of the steel and drips from her wrist as she hefts the now twice dead corpse from her weapon with her boot.</p><p>As it slumps and topples to the ground below them, the nameless brunette wrinkles her nose in disgust and smears the bloody substance off her skin against her pants. “Alright, girls. Let’s put our dicks away  and get ready to move.” The second ghoul that towers over her doesn’t even take a blade before it tumbles from the ledge. A carefully aimed kick against its knee is enough to shatter the brittle bone. “Callum -” </p><p>She shows her teeth in a feral smile when the boy turns to stare at her. “Yeah, I heard. And I’m happy to use your name - my name’s Clementine, Clem actually. And that little ray of sunshine over there is Violet.” Violet offers a momentary flash of teeth while Clementine nods toward Rayla and instructs Callum of what she expects him to do. The calm and even tone of her voice indicates the natural leadership in her. “You get to help her walk. Vi, you’re on me.”</p><p>A coy smile teases the blonde’s lips as she turns away from Rayla. Her gaze raking over the brunette’s wiry figure as she mock gasps. “Clem, No! Not in front of the kiddos.”</p><p>The newly christened Clementine rolls her eyes in an exaggerated mock of Violet’s full-body one. “Oh, shut up and get your scrawny ass over here. I need you to keep the dead-heads from snacking on me from that side-” She gestures to the left with the point of her blade. “- while I keep the smelly fuckers back from this side,” She jerks her chin to the right. “- so cripple and useless can slip out without getting chewed up.”</p><p>Again, Callum winces. Clearly hurt. He angles his face away from Rayla as he pulls her arm around his neck. His other hand curves around her waist, steadying her further and, to her dismay, she can feel how his fingers tremble against her hip.</p><p>And, finally, Rayla’s temper snaps.</p><p>“He’s<em> not </em>useless,” Rayla snarls. Tears scorch her eyes. The pain in her foot and the stress of not understanding what in the world is going on in<em> this </em>world fuels her fury as well as her words as she barrels on. “He’s a mage. Magic is his weapon. But wherever the hell this fucked up world is, he can’t connect to his primal source properly so he <em> can’t </em> use it!”</p><p>Violet and Clementine pause. Stunned. For a moment they simply stare, first at Rayla and then at Callum before they swap raised eyebrows of disbelief at each other.</p><p>Then Violet laughs. Long and loud and clearly mocking.</p><p>“You’re kidding!” The blonde scoffs. “You have to be kidding! Magic? You actually are a fucking nutjob, aren’t you?” She snorts and begins to turn on her heel. “Nice job Clem, we saved a couple of loons! Next, she’s gonna tell me dragons and elves are real.”</p><p>Pushing herself from Callum’s arms and with her teeth grinding, Rayla hobbles after the blonde. Ignoring the boy’s protests as she grabs Violet’s shoulder in one hand and yanks her around at the same time as she rips her hood back from her own head. “Dragons are real.” She snarls. “And elves are<em> definitely </em>real. Or do <em> I </em> look bloody human to you?!”</p><p>Violet’s face pales and her spine snaps ramrod straight. Her eyes first take in the markings beneath Rayla’s eyes, then her unusual eye colour. Next, they shift to her long, pointed ears before lifting to stare at the horns that protrude from her white hair.</p><p>“What. The actual. FUCK?!” Lifting her hand to knock Rayla’s from her shoulder - Rayla’s<em> three-fingered </em>hand - Violet back peddles so fast that she almost falls over the edge into the swarm of snarling walkers below. But it’s Rayla’s alien hand that grabs her elbow and hauls her back onto her feet before she can fall.</p><p>“Thanks.” Violet pants, bending over her knees. Then, she straightens, squares her shoulders and asks. “What in the actual hell <em> are </em> you?”</p><p>“She’s an elf,” Callum says quietly. Shifting so that he can jam his shoulder under Rayla’s armpit and allow her to take the weight off of her injured foot again. “A Moonshadow elf.” He glances from Violet to Clementine and then back again. “And we need your help.”</p><p>“Moonshadow…” Violet blinks slowly. Then her gaze slips over to watch Callum warily. “Are you really a mage, then? Like, really? You can do magic?”</p><p>Callum nods slowly. “Well, back home for sure. Here, I’ve tried, but neither Aspiro nor Fulminis would work. And there’s no way I can summon my Mage wings.”</p><p>“Wait, what?” Violet holds her hand out to stop Callum talking. “Mage wings? You can fly?”</p><p>“Sometimes.” Callum mumbles. “I learned how by watching Ibis at the Storm Spire. But it’s tough. Even most of the Skywing elves - the ones born without wings - can’t summon them.”</p><p>“Skywing elves?” Violet glances to Rayla, wide-eyed with amazement. “There are more of you guys? Like, different types?”</p><p>But before Rayla can reply, Clementine’s voice calls out. Tired and strained as she shoves the, thankfully, mawless walker that she’s currently wrestling with over the side.</p><p>“Alright, Vi. I know that wings and the thought of flying gets you wet and all -- but seriously, I need a fucking hand over here.” The next walker that bears down on the brunette is simply shoved from the ledge. The hilt in her hand is too slippery with gore for her to risk using without the very real risk that it might slip through her fingers on the pull out.</p><p>She takes a step backwards. Putting some distance between herself and the undead corpses, now swarming onto the ledge a little quicker, as she wipes her hand off on her thigh for a second time. “If I get bit and turn because your gay ass is swooning over a <em> boy, </em> the first person walker me is gonna eat is you… and not in the way that you’d want me to.”</p><p>Tearing her eyes from the elf and the mage, Violet turns and races to Clementine’s side. She yanks her hatchet from her belt loop and swings the heavy blade into and through the nearest walker’s rotting skull. Then she turns on the balls of her feet and, without breaking her stride, cleaves into the face of a second.</p><p>After several minutes of frenzied hacking and slashing, there’s finally a small break in the herd. Not quite large enough for the small group to escape through, but it’s enough to grant a moment to breathe and search for a larger break further out. Bent over her knees and breathing heavily, Clementine tilts her head over her aching shoulder and catches Callum’s eye.</p><p>“You got her?” She asks, spitting through the gore that slithers down her face.</p><p>Callum sets his jaw and adjusts his grip on Rayla’s waist. Curls his fingers around the elf’s belt to help hold her weight off of her injured foot as much as possible as he nods. “Yeah.”</p><p>“Good,” Clementine grunts, shoulder charging one of the final shambling corpses and knocking it away from Violet’s vulnerable back. Plunging her knife through the creature’s worm-eaten orbital cavity and twisting. “You’ve got a clear shot coming up before the next wave of rotters piles in. If you can, run straight ahead. Try not to veer too deep into the woods, you’re gonna get lost. There’ll be an old road about half a mile out. When you hit it, go left-”</p><p>She grunts as Violet steps back and bumps her in efforts to avoid taking the shaft of a shattered radius to her ribs. Once the ghoul is dealt with Clementine gives the blonde a gentle shove. Planting her solidly back on her feet, ready to fend off the next attack. They are clearly well-practised, fighting together like this, an obvious and capable team. “ - Follow it until you hit a creek with a shabby looking shack. Get her there and barricade yourselves in until we come for you. And for the love of Christ, <em> don’t </em>let yourselves get bit. You get bit, you turn! Got it?”</p><p>“Turn?” Rayla’s skin itches uncomfortably as goose flesh races along her spine and arms. “What do you mean, turn?”</p><p>“What she means, little miss Keebler,” Violet snorts, puffing away the strands of platinum caked in blood and sweat that stick to her brow. “Is that you’ll join the ranks of the hungry, dead and smelly.”</p><p>“And then, <em> we </em>put you down,” Clementine adds, coldly. Factually. “It’s nothing personal, but we got our own people’s asses to worry about and the last thing that we need, is a couple of abnormal walkers roaming so close to home.”</p><p>Rayla can feel Callum’s arm around her tense up. More nervous now that the worst-case scenario has been so candidly laid out. The scenario that would happen if<em> he </em>messes up their escape.</p><p>She squeezes him back with the arm that she has around him. Reminding him that she is there with him. That she trusts him. “You got this, Callum.” She murmurs against his ear as she briefly presses her nose behind it. “I know that you’ll keep me safe. You always come through.”</p><p>Callum swallows thickly. But it’s clear that Rayla’s words help settle him. His nervous heart still hammers in his throat and flings itself wildly around inside its cage of ribs, but the clenching and rolling in his guts have eased.</p><p>“Hey, uh… elf?” Clementine turns her attention to Rayla now and offers a small, pained smile in trade to the sharp look that the Moonshadow fixes her with. “Sorry, I never did quite catch your name.”</p><p>“No one bothered to ask.” She snips, flashing an accusatory glare toward Violet’s back. Then she sighs. “It’s Rayla.”</p><p>“Rayla,” Clementine says slowly. Almost like she’s testing the name on her tongue. Then she nods. “You got your swords still?”</p><p>The elf reaches her free arm beneath her jacket and draws one. With a nimble flick of her wrist, she snaps it open, the straight edge gleaming in the darkness.</p><p>The brunette eyes the silver blade almost longingly. Enthralled by the way that the silvery sheen seems to glow almost blue in the weak light.</p><p>“That’s such a cool sword.” Clementine sighs. Then she blinks and she’s all seriousness again. “Okay. I saw how you handled yourself down there earlier, so you’re in charge of keeping the walkers off your asses, okay?”</p><p>Her mouth quirks into a sardonic grin when Rayla nods her confirmation. “Alright then. Now, the thing to know about walkers is that the bodies are already dead, so don’t waste your time aiming for it. The only way to kill-kill them is to aim for the head. Destroy the brain ideally, but decapitation will do in a pinch. Just don’t let them hit you after you lop them off, the suckers can and <em> will </em> attempt to bite still.”</p><p>Then she turns to Callum. “Callum,”</p><p>The boy’s stance is rigid. He’s clearly scared, not that she can blame him for that really. And he<em> is </em>doing an admirable job controlling just how his fear shows. But, Clementine has seen the expression that he wears before. On countless faces of people now long gone.</p><p>Her old baby-sitter, Sandra, right at the start. The first death her eight-year-old self had seen. Doug, torn to pieces and Carley, shot by one of their own. Sarah, devoured, too lost in her fear to adapt and survive. Jane and Kenny, turning on each other, so she walked away. Luke… drowned. Gabe… putting himself down so she wouldn’t have to. <em> Lee </em>… His death still haunts her the most.</p><p>People. <em> Her </em>people. Either too soft or too good to survive. Or, those who’d died, protecting her as a child.</p><p>Callum has that same look Lee had worn each and every time that he’d protected her. And Lee had<em> still </em>died. Died protecting her, not from walkers, but from her stupid mistakes.</p><p>Some people are so good that this violent world will do everything in its power to take them first.</p><p>Clementine swallows hard and blinks harder. Forcing the faces of people she had once known back and buried in the depths of her thoughts. She’ll deal with the aching void left behind her heart later and Violet’ll be there to help her. Like she always does. But, for now, there are two scared, strange people staring at her. Two lives that have somehow been dumped here and, yet again, she’d found herself in a role of forced responsibility.</p><p>She shakes her head once, and then she’s back to instructing again. “You might be a mage in your world, but right here and right now, you’re not. And I’m guessing there’s a reason Rayla’s not handed you her other sword.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Callum smiles sheepishly. “I’m not so good with weapons. And Moonshadow weapons are-”</p><p>“Not the time right now.” Clementine cuts him off. “And, if you want to survive here, that<em> will </em>have to change. But, for now, the best thing you can do is be Rayla’s eyes. Keep track of the walkers, she’s not able to. Avoid them if you can. Don’t let them swarm you. And, if you have to, take out the knee of any walker that gets too close with a kick. Once they’re down, it takes them a while to get back up, if they can at all. Watch out for draggers and crawlers, stomp their skulls if they look soft enough- ”</p><p>“Clem,” Violet calls out, interrupting the brunette. She backs up, flicking her hatchet and splattering blood and brain and gore against the ground. “We got an opening.” She moves to re-join the trio. “Herd is thinning out too. Lou and AJ have gotta be flanking in.”</p><p>As if on cue, a sharp shrill whistle cuts through the air. And Violet smiles. “Yup, that’s Lou’s whistle.” Then a series of owl hoots bounce in next. A few yards closer and from the opposite direction than the source of the whistle. “Aaaand, there’s AJ.”</p><p>There’s a flash of relief mixed with pride on Clementine’s face. “Well, that’s just made our jobs - and Callum’s - so much easier.” She moves, positioning herself in front of Callum and Rayla. “Vi, could you?”</p><p>“Way ahead of ya.” The blonde wedges a thumb and index finger into her mouth, under her tongue, and blasts three short whistles of her own. There’s a split second of silence and then another reply of whistles and hoots. Then the blonde slides into position herself to stand behind the pair. “We got about two minutes before their next position check.”</p><p>“What was that?” Rayla asks. Curious and perhaps even a little impressed, <em> begrudgingly </em>impressed, by the organization skills these strange humans possess.</p><p>Violet smirks. “The calvary.”</p><p>“We missed our last two check in’s,” Clementine explains. Her eyes are ever moving as she watches the shadows. “So, they’ve come to find our sorry asses.” Then she grins. “But, hey. Great news for you guys. No need to send you running alone to the safe house, though don’t forget the directions. Back up plan should shit hit the metaphorical fan. Vi.”</p><p>Violet nods as she slides silently into position herself. She brings up the rear, her back to Rayla’s and Callum’s as she completes the crude box formation.</p><p>Glancing over her shoulder, the brunette checks their positions. Satisfied, she smirks. “I’d like to take a moment to remind all girls, boys, elves and mages to keep their arms and legs inside the ride at all times. Management accepts no responsibility for injuries directly caused by ignoring safety guidelines. Now, are we ready?”</p><p>There’s a succession of quick nods from the trio behind her, then Clementine turns to face forward. She darts out a few feet ahead she smashes her heel through the skull of a reaching ghoul on the ground before dropping back a step. “Well, alright then, let’s get this walker snack bar moving and blow this death trap, shall we? Rayla, it might be a good idea to uh… put your hood back up. Your hair’s pretty long, easy for swinging walker hands to grab… and explaining your horns to Louis and AJ while running is going to put a serious spanner into the escape plan.”</p><p>As Rayla silently obeys and the brunette moves forward, Callum freezes. Hesitating for just a moment. Though it’s a moment too long because Violet backs up and bumps them. Knocking herself as well as both Callum and Rayla off balance for a moment.</p><p>“Seriously?” She grouses. Her head snaps over her shoulder but her eyes only spare the duo a fleeting scowl before they move on to check on Clementine’s position. Checking that she’d not rushed too far ahead during the uncoordinated tangle that the blonde had found herself in. “You just got yourselves an escort, so now’s the time for you to grow a set, and MOVE, Cal.”</p><p>And move he does. He has to.</p><p>With a yelp, Callum skips over the hand reaching for his foot from the shadows below. He plants one leg firmly as he slams the heel of his boot down and through the fiend’s decayed skull with the same ease as he would have had he just stomped an over-ripe willowmelon.</p><p>He grimaces as the decaying brain matter and rancid blood splatter high up his leg, almost to his hip.</p><p>“Hey,” This time when the boy glances up to face her, Violet is grinning a toothy smirk. One that doesn’t look quite so sarcastic on her features as any of the other smiles and smirks that she’d offered anyone other than Clementine so far. “There ya go. You got yourself your first walker kill.”</p><p>Then her mouth drops its slanted curve and her peridot eyes harden as she herds them from the ledge and deeper into the forest. Just as another series of whistles, louder than ever rents the air and Callum can see another figure - one of the two other members of Violet’s and Clementine’s crew - moving through the shadows. “Keep it up and the two of you might just survive longer than one night in this hellhole.”</p><p>Callum swallows as he looks ahead. He can feel Rayla’s body jerk at his side as she recoils from slicing into another one of the moving corpses that had somehow crept into her strike range without his notice.</p><p>
  <em> Might survive... </em>
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  <em> Might. </em>
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